Blood, Sweat, and Tears
by MisterFatAl
Summary: A Beshimi X female reader fic. You're a cook at the Takeda mansion. Beshimi never misses dinner. One night, he's late, so you go to his room and find the injured ninja. You help him dress his wounds and end up soothing him in another way too.


You walk hurriedly down dimly lit corridors, decked out in strange, western décor, towards _his_ room.

You had started to worry when he didn't show for dinner at the usual time. Beshimi always had dinner much later than the other Oniwabanshū, because of the shift he worked. When he would come in late at night, you were always waiting for him in the kitchen. Your work as a cook is important to you. You want to know what everybody likes, and when you noticed how little Beshimi typically ate, you started working on him.

The strange men of the Oniwabanshū didn't frighten you. In fact, you found them intriguing. They seemed surprised by how nice you were to them, and before too long, you had built up a friendly rapport with them all. Your feelings for Beshimi, however, had become more than friendly.

At first, he seemed cold and closed up tight. You started by asking him what his favorite food was. When he told you, you knew you had this in the bag. The look on his face delighted you when he tried your version of his favorite dish. Remembering how he cleaned his plate always made you smile.

But he hadn't come tonight. You waited and waited, getting more and more worried. Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You know how dangerous his duties are. What if something happened? There wasn't much you could do. You aren't permitted to leave the Takeda grounds, after all. But you can at least check his room. Maybe he was just so tired, he skipped dinner and went straight to bed.

You finally approach his door after a long walk through this expansive mansion. You knock.

There's an abbreviated growl from inside and it sounds…pained. "Who's there?" he asks irritably in his gravelly voice.

"It's me. May I come in?"

There's a pause.

"Alright," he finally says.

You open the door, slip inside quickly, and shut it again behind you. Gas lamps in the corners light the room. In the center, he sits on a cushion, his chest bare, white bandage wrapped halfway up his waist, just short of a bloody wound on his side. A bowl of murky red water with a rag in it sits next to him. He's stopped mid-motion, bandage in his fingers, and those big, piercing eyes are locked onto you.

You're too shocked to move for a moment, but when you do, you fall to your knees at his side, hands poised, ready to help. "Beshimi-san! What did this to you?"

He smiles wryly. "A bullet. I'm fine. It only grazed my ribcage," he says, but you can hear the pain straining his voice.

"C-can I help you?"

He eyes you hesitantly. What's going on behind those snake-like eyes? You long ago noticed what a pretty brown they are…

He finally hands over the roll of white cloth. "Make sure it's tight. Don't be afraid of hurting me," he says, looking straight ahead.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. You've never actually touched a man before, let alone a man who stirred such infatuation within you. _Stop that_ , you think to yourself. _You're not here to romance him. He's hurt!_ You begin wrapping, going upwards. You have to lean in close to him as you wrap, switching the roll from one hand to the other with your arms practically encircling his slim waist. His brown skin shines with sweat and smells of sandalwood. For the first time you get to see how beautifully formed his lithe body is.

"Can you tell me what happened?" you ask, to break the silence. You know he's a spy and that he might not be able to disclose everything he does. You'll understand if he can't tell you everything.

"I was on a mission," he says with a heavy sigh. "To keep it brief, my presence was detected, then I was shot at." He closes his eyes. You can detect his shame by the way his voice dropped. It's surprising how deep his timbre gets when he speaks quietly, yet it's still so powerful.

You finally come to the wound, and when you begin to cover it, you can feel his body tense up, but he doesn't make a sound. How can he be this stoic? The ribcage is thin-skinned and prone to be very painful when injured. You start to wonder what other kinds of pain this man has had to endure to make him so tough.

Once the wound is covered tightly, you keep wrapping upwards for extra security, stopping just at the base of his breastbone. You tie a tight knot to secure everything. You've used the entire roll of bandage. Before your hands can lower from the knot you tied, he's grabbed both your wrists in his hands. He moved so fast, you barely saw it.

He's turned to you, his dark rimmed eyes peering into yours. "Why did you come here?" he demands huskily.

"I-I was worried about you, w-when you missed dinner." You aren't frightened by the way he's grabbing you or by how close his face is to yours. But you wonder, is he angry? You can't tell. What is the emotion behind this intensity?

His right hand let's go of your wrist, and reaches up slowly to cup the side of your face, his fingers sliding into your hair. His eyes narrow, still locked onto yours, but his brow…softens. Your own face gets hot and you're sure you're turning red. What is he going to do? Is he going to kiss you?

You watch his face get closer and closer to yours with anticipation. This is really happening! His lips touch yours, and a heat wave blazes up your whole body. His lips are soft but they're forceful, like he is. By the next stroke of his lips, they're parted. You relax your jaw and follow his lead. His tongue flicks out between your lips. His hand has roamed back and holds the back of your head as he now kisses you passionately. His other hand has also let go of your wrist and is now behind your back.

In one fluid motion that you can barely comprehend, you're thrown down on your back on the tatami mat floor, with Beshimi on top of you on his hands and knees. A pained groan escapes his throat, but his lips never leave yours. You remember his injury. Should he really be doing this? Gods, but you don't want him to stop! You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. Though you're unexperienced, you have your impulses to follow at least. You want him so bad, you're ready to go all the way if that's what happens tonight. You've fantasized about it for so long.

He lowers down onto his elbows, his body now pressed against yours. He parts your legs with his knee, and you yield to him, opening yourself to him to settle his hips between your thighs. He begins to slowly grind his hips into yours. Through the barrier of his trousers and your now wrinkled and mussed yukata, you can feel his raging hardness. You feel your resolve slipping away as you're possessed by lust. Pleasured, pleading moans escape your throat. His lips leave yours to trail across your cheek and down your neck. It feels so magnificent. You whimper his name.

With one hand he reaches down and begins to hike up the hem of your yukata. Yes! You want it! You want him inside you. Once the way is cleared, he deftly undoes his trousers with one hand, and frees his engorged manhood. You venture to look down and you get to watch him stroke back his foreskin. The shining head is lighter than the dark shaft. It's as beautiful as the rest of him.

You whimper his name again, and he presses the tip of his manhood into your core. The glorious way his hips flex makes you feel a gush. For the first time, his lips leave your skin as he groans, "You're so _wet_ ". He eases into you slowly. There's a stinging pain, and you tense up. "Almost there sweetheart," he purrs huskily into your ear. You feel the base of his cock settle against you now. He's all the way in, stretching you, filling you. Your body is wrapped tightly around him, his face hiding in the crook of your neck. He stays perfectly still for a moment. "Relax," he coaxes, hissing the word out lazily. You relax your pelvis and the sting begins to subside.

He starts with shallow thrusts, gentle grinds, progressively pulling out more and more before thrusting into you again. Something is happening. It feels like a pressure building. His cock pounding into you is like a rolling thunder. Sweat drips onto you from his body. You look up into his eyes. They're almost closed, only a bit of white showing between his dark rimmed lids, and they look to be rolled back. You're both in the thick of it now. He grunts and growls with each thrust, with pleasure but likely also the pain of his wound. This can't be helping it but apparently, it's worth it to him. You lick the sweat from his graceful neck and then kiss it.

He's pounding into you fast and hard now, and it's taking everything not to scream from the blinding pleasure. You feel tears pouring from the corners of your eyes. All pain is long since forgotten as you're propelled towards a peak that you can't see the top of. You explode through the clouds to float, suspended. He gasps with each hard, final thrust, expelling his seed deep inside of you, then collapses into your arms.

You both lay there panting for a long while, but it doesn't feel like long enough. You wish you could stop time and stay in this moment forever, savoring his body on yours, his scent, his manhood filling you.

With a final deep breath, he pulls away from you and sits up. Looking down at his side, the bandage is soaked through with red again.

"Look what you did, you silly woman," he chuckles. "You're going to have to do it all over again."


End file.
